Everyday Miracles

A few weeks ago I was assigned to help the screening team on the dock. It's one of my favorite nursing assignments, despite the fact that it means spending hours in the warehouse in 90 degree, 85% humidity, weather. With my scrubs rolled up to my knees and my burlap TOMS on, I headed down to the dock, wondering what the day might bring. Working with screening at this stage means you get to be part of the team that introduces the patients to our ship, to the surgeons, and the incredible crew on board. You help draw blood work, do patient interviews, escort patients for CT scans and XRAYs, and entertain restless kids with a seemingly endless supply of bubbles. And while screening is not always a "happy" job since there are those we simply cannot help, it is certainly a meaningful one. After all is said and done, the patients who have been selected for surgery receive an appointment card with their admission date and instructions on when to return to the ship. Some patients will even be admitted to the hospital right then and there, to have surgery the next morning. On this day we were wrapping things up when I sat down with a man to give him his yellow patient card and admit him directly to the hospital for surgery the next day. He had a baseball sized growth on his neck that had been there for over ten years. Since he spoke a little English he had learned years ago in school, we had developed a rapport throughout the day. After I told him that he was scheduled to have surgery the next day, he broke into a smile and thanked me. As I wrote down his admission information, he said to me in his broken English, "Ten years I have had this, I have suffered. Now, tomorrow, new face, new day."

I will never forget those words. We are at the point where there are only three months left in the field service. We have gotten into a routine. Monday, screening and new admits. Surgery through Friday. Discharge patients home or to the HOPE center. Empty drains. Do patient exercises. Deck 7 time from 2:30-3:30. Neuro checks at 8 and 12 o'clock. Crafts with the kids. Check your charting. It is easy to get caught up in the activities and nursing tasks, it's easy for this unique hospital to become normal. And then I remember my friend's words... "tomorrow, new face, new day". Nothing we do here is normal. In the space of one day, we are able to offer hope that people have lived without for so long. And while recovery may take longer than that, the healing process begins in that space of time. During this time we have the opportunity to not only offer physical healing, but support our patients emotionally and spiritually as well as they recover from, potentially, years of suffering from pain, difficulty breathing, frustration, and social ostracism. I live and work in a place where miracles happen every day, where they become ordinary, and it is easy to take them for granted here... they've become everyday miracles. Each patient here is special in their own way, teaching us important lessons, and leaving imprints on our hearts. But today I want to share just a few more patient stories with you all, to represent these incredible, everyday miracles.  Some of these have been patients that I've taken care of directly, while others have been stories shared ship wide.

"Doctor" Daniella
This little girl captured my heart. During her time on the ward, she helped me check the crash cart, learned how to use my stethoscope (and how to clean it with alcohol swabs), how to find my pulse, and even how to take her own vital signs. When I brought music to the ward, she would always ask for "Boom,Clap", shouting at the top of her lungs in a straight monotone voice, "Boom, clap, the sound of my heart, the beat goes on, onononononon." I will forever hear that little voice in my head when that song comes on. She loved dance parties, and providing manicures to the nurses and other little girls on the ward. After having surgery on her foot, she progressed from hobbling around the ward with a crutch, to running up and down the halls with me chasing her shouting "mora, mora!" (slow down!).

Olivier
They do patient interviews prior to surgery, and when asked why he wanted his syndactyly on his hands fixed, you will never guess at his response. So he could count to 10 without the other kids making fun of him, and so that he could wear a wedding ring! This little one always made us laugh, he was quick to smile, and it was a joy to have him on the ward! It's easy to see why in this photo.

Mariette
We've recently started doing our goiter surgical service, and we are loving it! Although men are also affected, we've met so many amazing women during this time. We love our goiter ladies! Mariette had a large goiter that made it difficult for her to breathe. She was such a sweet, quiet, presence on the ward during her time with us.

Sambany
Sambany has become the face of the Africa Mercy this year, and many have been following his story on the Mercy Ships Facebook page. For those of you who haven't... here's a quick synopsis. After a four hour car ride and then three days of walking an incredible distance with his grandson, with just the hope that Mercy Ships could help him, he arrived at our doors. Due to the size and nature of his tumor, the surgery planned was very risky. When asked if he would still like to proceed, Sambany told the team, "I know without surgery I will die. I know I might die in surgery, but I already feel dead inside from the way I'm treated. I choose to have surgery." After 12 hours of surgery, and multiple blood donations from crew members, he was free of the 16.45 pound tumor that had weighed him down! For the first time in memory, he is able to choose which side to sleep on instead of using his tumor as a pillow. He was a patient on our D ward, where my wonderful nursing friends took amazing care of him, and the entire ship prayed for and supported him. During an interview with our communications team after surgery, he told them "...I am very happy, because I am saved. God helped me to become like this. God saved me." Amen.  

Seeing himself for the first time after surgery with my friend Marta holding the mirror!

Here he's on the left playing cards with new friends.

Although I am missing home and my loved ones, it is such an incredible honor and joy to be a part of these people's lives, if only for a moment. We have little time left in this field service, and so much left to do, so many people to reach and to learn from. Please keep our crew and patients in your thoughts as we enter our next surgical service with our VVF (vesicovaginal fistula) patients this next week. I'm sure I'll have many more stories to share!